Just Another Day
by Jen
Summary: A Mulder hospital stay from a third person point of view.


**TITLE: **"Just Another Day"  
**AUTHOR:** Jen  
**EMAIL:** [JenR13@aol.com][1]   
**RATING:** PG  
**SPOILERS:** 100% Spoiler free  
**CLASSIFICATION:** SH  
**KEYWORDS:** Mulder/Scully UST  
**SUMMARY:** A Mulder hospital stay from a third person point of view.  
**  
Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing them, Chris! Honest!   
**  
Author's Notes: **I currently have two stories in the   
works(yes, **A Child Shall Lead Them** is still in progress, but I   
have all the ideas for it outlined), but I got this little idea and   
just decided to write it. Be gentle, the only other POV story I have   
written came from the mouth of a fish. :-)  
  


**"Just Another Day"**   
By [Jen][1]  
  


Hospitals. I hate hospitals. Ironic, because I am forced to   
be in one. Not by choice though. At least not by my choice. I just   
happen to have a father who is a doctor and thinks I spent too much   
time on my butt. Which is probably true. I have probably set the   
world record for "sitting and doing nothing" in the 16-year-old   
division. So, here I am. Working as a candy striper from 3 p.m. to   
6 p.m., Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and 12 to 4 on Saturdays.   
  
It's not a boring job, though. Sure, I have to run things to   
radiology and stuff, but I've met a lot of interesting people.   
Especially the cute guy in 339 that broke his leg skiing. I've been  
keeping a real close eye on that one.   
  
But lo and behold he's going home today. Oh well, I've have   
to remember to get his phone number before I leave today. I stop by   
the nurses station to get my assignments today. I'll be fine as long   
as I don't have to see any blood. I had one experience with that,   
when I was working on the pediatric floor. A little kid cut his   
stitches open when he tripped over a wheelchair. There was a lot of   
blood and a lot of whining. I never want to see that again.  
  
"Afternoon, Mary Anne," Christine says to me. She's the head   
nurse on this floor. A real nice woman I met at my dad's Christmas   
party. She tells me to call her Christine, but my dad corrects me   
every time I do. She tells him there is nothing wrong with it and   
then they argue. Not like my mom and dad used to argue, before   
their divorce, but almost like simple lovers' spat. I wish he would   
juts ask her out. God knows I am going to do it for him if he   
doesn't do it soon.  
  
"Hi, Christine," I answer back. Christine's 39, but you   
would never guess it by looking at her. Why is my dad so blind?  
  
She places some flowers in front of me. "I'm sorry to do this,  
but I need you to deliver these to room 223." She pointed to bouquet   
of flowers with a white card sticking out of them.  
  
"Why are you sorry?" I ask as I picked up the flowers. I   
like deliveries. I rarely got to do them and they give you a chance   
to meet new people. That's how I met Mark, AKA the cute guy in 339.  
  
"He's not what we call the 'best' patient."   
  
"So? I wasn't the best patient when I broke my leg last   
year." That one experience that helped turn me off hospitals. Well,   
at least the medical aspect of them.  
  
Christine laughed. "Don't I know it. Now deliver those   
flowers, because I've got some duties for you and Kelly."  
  
"Duties for me and Kelly?" Kelly is my best friend, and also   
a candy striper. But, unlike me, she wanted to be here. I still   
to this day do not know why.  
  
"Yep." She turned around to her paperwork and I started to   
walk to room 223. I looked down at the card in the flowers. It had   
a name on it. Fox. Weird name, but interesting. I would love to   
have an interesting name. Anything other than Mary Anne for sure.   
  
I reached the door of room 223 and peered in. A man was   
sitting up in the bed, a very unhappy look on his face. He glared   
at something I couldn't see. I moved to get a closer view and could   
hear a woman's voice.  
  
".......Mulder, you're staying put, end of discussion." I   
stayed by the door afraid I was interrupting an important discussion.  
  
"But, Scullee," the man whined and I decided to knock   
cautiously on the door. The man and his companion turned to me and   
I got a better look at them. The man looked a little younger than   
my dad, probably in his mid-thirties, I supposed. He had brown hair   
and hazel eyes definitely set on getting his way. The woman, I   
guessed also had to be in her early to mid-thirties. She had a head   
of red hair that reminded me of my mom's. Of course, if hers was a   
dye job, it was done a hell of a lot better than my mother's. Her   
blue eyes scan me and then turn back to the man, an annoyed/determined   
look in them.  
  
"Delivery," I say and hold the flowers out in front of me.   
"For a....." I glance down at the name card Christina had given me.   
"Fox Mulder." So, his first name was Fox, just like it said on the   
card. I'd have to remember to look that one up in my book of names   
when I got home.  
  
"That's Fox right here," the woman said, pointing to the man   
on the bed. He grimaced at the use of his first name, so I guess he   
doesn't like it. Well, I can identify with that. I still blame  
my father for naming me Mary Anne.  
  
The woman gets up and takes the flowers from my hands.   
"There's from Mom," she says and places them on the window sill.   
Mom? Did she mean her mom? Our their mom?   
  
"That's nice of her," the man says casually and I decide to   
slip out. Just seeing them together I have decided she meant her   
mom and his mother-in-law. They must be married. They certainly act   
like it. Glancing at each other with looks only reserved for each   
other. My parents never gave each other those looks. My dad will   
give Christina a look like that from time to time, but he never acts   
on it. Maybe I should introduce him to these two.  
  
I return to the desk to find some duties awaiting me, so I   
spend the rest of my time doing them. On my way down the hall after   
a run, I just happened to pass that man's room again. Trying not to   
look obvious, but dying of curiosity, I peer into the room quickly.   
The bed was empty, the blankets tangled at the edge of the bed. I   
would have thought he had gone home, if not for the comment his   
red-haired companion made before. Sure enough, I heard the clickly  
click of computer keys, and after I glance into the room at a   
different angle, I can see him typing at a laptop computer in one   
of the very uncomfortable plastic visitor's chairs. The IV stand was  
next to him, the needle discarded on the floor.   
  
Anytime we see someone out of bed that isn't supposed to be,   
we are supposed to report it one of the nurses. And this man, Fox   
Mulder, definitely did not look like he should be out of bed.   
Although I was only near the doorway, I could see the paleness in his   
face. He looked tired, but was concentrating on typing. He was so   
into what he was doing he never even noticed me at the door.  
  
Candy-stripers are supposed to help out, and maybe even   
brighten someone's day. Kelly even likes to go into people's rooms   
and just learn something about them, something that would brighten   
their day a little. She meet this one woman, with breast cancer, who   
loved the beach, loved to touch the sand. So Kelly had her friend,   
who lives by the beach, FedEx her a bag of sand. Just the look on   
that woman's face was enough to brighten anyone's week, let alone   
their day. I wish I had Kelly's passion, but I don't. She wants to   
be a doctor someday. I know she'll make a great one.  
  
I looked at the man again and knew what would happen if   
Cathy caught him. Cathy's a pretty brown-haired nurse with a very   
stern voice. She's a stickler for the rules and _no one_ ever wants   
to be caught be her. I should know. I was caught by her once. And   
from what I gathered from Christina, Mr. Mulder wasn't the world's   
greatest patient. That's fine by me, by not by Cathy.  
  
"Sir," I say from the doorway, knocking softly on the edge.   
"You might want to get back into bed. Nurses are making rounds."  
  
The man looked up from his typing. "And I suppose it's the   
lovely Nurse Cathy's turn," he says with a smirk.  
  
I smile back. "You don't want to get caught by her. Trust   
me, I know." I may only be sixteen, but I'm a fast learner. I had a   
feeling that Mr. Mulder was one two, he just didn't listen. Kinda   
like a teenager. And hey, I can identify with that.  
  
"I can't get yelled at anymore then I already have been," he   
commented with a shrug.  
  
I turn toward the hall and see the familiar red-haired woman   
walking this way. "Well, never mind Cathy, I think your wife might   
be a bit annoyed with the fact that you're out of bed."  
  
He thinks for a minute. "My wi-, oh jeez, Scully." He   
immediately grabbed the computer and set it on the table. Then he   
pulled the IV pole back toward the bed and climbed under the blanket.   
He conveniently put the IV tube under the blankets along with the   
hand it used to be in. He must have done this before.  
  
I watch this in amazement, wondering how one woman could have   
such an effect on one man. He straightens out his blanket just as   
the woman arrives at the door. I move to let her in, and she   
immediately eyes him with a critical eye.  
  
"Just been resting, Scully," he says casually, and both of   
them seem to forget I'm in the doorway. I'm surprised to hear him   
call her Scully. That's has to be the oddest name I've heard, Fox   
aside. She narrows her eyes and walks over the bed, by his left   
side.  
  
"Really?" she says. She glanced at the laptop, still on and   
plugged in. "It's hard to reach the computer from over here, isn't   
it?" She pulls part of the blanket off of him. He looks down at  
his hand sheepishly.  
  
"I, well..," he stammers.  
  
"Save it, Mulder. I know you too well." Mulder? Well, if   
she calls him Mulder, then maybe Scully is her last name. But why   
would a married couple call each other by their last  
names?  
  
"Darn it, Scully. I had a good excuse this time and every-  
thing," he says with mock exasperation.  
  
"Well, save it for next time," she answers with a smile, and   
sits on the edge of his bed. I know I should be here, but I can't   
seem to leave. She picks up the IV tube. "You know you're going to   
need a new one."  
  
The man, Mulder, looks down guilty. "Sorry, Scully."  
  
"You shouldn't be working on that case anyway, partner. Don't   
you remember it was the reason you're here in the first place?"   
Partner? That could account for the last names. My friend's father   
is a police officer and calls his partner by his last name. Of course   
his partner's of the male gender. And they don't share the same   
bond that these two so obviously share. But the partner thing may   
dismiss my idea that they are married. But still, those looks they   
give each other are not the same looks you give friends. Even good   
friends. I sure as hell don't look at my friend Mike like that. And   
he is of the male gender.  
  
"Yes, I remember. But I needed to write a report for Skinner."  
His eyes dropped from exhaustion. It seemed his energy reserves were   
dying down.   
  
"Reports can wait, Mulder." She saw him falling asleep and   
tucked the blankets around him closer. "You almost died. If he had   
only aimed a little higher....." She said those words softly, as   
if she couldn't bear to think about that thought.  
  
"I know," he said sleepily.   
  
The only word I could use to describe the look they gave   
each other then is love. I don't know what love is because I've   
never felt it, but I knew then that those two loved each other. No  
question about it. Whether partners or lovers, it didn't matter. As   
she leaned closer toward him and kissed him on the forehead, I   
slipped out.  
  
Every time I passed room 223 after that I saw them together.   
On the day he left, she pushing his wheelchair, they were laughing and   
smiling. I asked Christina about them. She says, we'll see him   
again, he always comes back, that his medical file is long than "War   
and Peace." As I watched them disappear down that elevator that day   
I thought about my dad's and Christina relationship. And I told him   
about seeing those two partners together.  
  
It must have had some impact on him, because I had to help   
get ready for a date. Yes, a date. It's a start.  
  
**End.**  
  
Please tell me what you thought at [JenR13@aol.com][1].  
  
  
  


   [1]: mailto:jenr13@aol.com



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